Freedom and Consequence
by Paige Hansen
Summary: Upon discovering the truth of her parentage, Raven Attaway leaves her home and family in Nassau in search of answers about her real father. Rated M for future content.
1. Chapter 1

There was never anything more comforting than the heat of the mid-July sun, and today Nassau was blanketed in her warmth. The smell of salt water carried through the air on a southern breeze, and dolphins could be seen playing not far from shore. Merchant ships came and went, unloading their wares, and being watched with the ever cautious eye of the guard. Ever since the British had taken the city as their own, things were calm and quiet. Sighting the familiar black flag of pirate ships had become a rarity, making it seem as though the loss of their beloved settlement had caused them to dwindle in numbers. On the off chance that a suspicious brig sailed too close, the shores were littered with men assigned to watch for any possible threat. Only twice in the past year did anyone make the mistake of forgetting that Nassau was no longer a haven for pirates, and citizens crowded the beaches to watch the spectacle as canons and mortar fired in the open waters.

A rare few had disguised themselves as civilians and merchants, and most had been successful, able to spend prolonged periods of time ashore. Today however, those who hadn't been so lucky, were to be made an example out of. Shouts could be heard through the streets of men begging and crying for their freedom, and civilians mocking them in return. A crowd had formed and continued to grow since midday, each spectator growing increasingly impatient in awaiting the oncoming execution. For one in particular, however, the execution was nothing to be excited about. As far as Raven Attaway was concerned, it was nothing more than an abuse of power by those in a position of self-importance. To her, the British were a fastidious and self-righteous bunch; An opinion not shared by many, least of all the man she called Father.

Daniel Attaway was by no means her real father, having only become a part of her life when she was no older than five years. He came from London in service of King George I, as a member of the Royal Navy, and had been contracted to the Bahamas to help in the attempts to eradicate pirate activity. It was early 1699 when Daniel began courting a young Spanish woman named Isabella Barrero. It wasn't long, maybe a year or two, before the two had fallen quite hopelessly in love, and once Daniel's contract was finished, he married her and took on the responsibility of raising Raven as his own. He'd done his absolute best in teaching her right from wrong, and instilling strong values in her, but it never came without it's difficulties. Raven had always known that her father had died when she was barely old enough to walk, and at times had told Daniel that he had no right to lord over her the way he did. This in turn, always caused him to question his abilities as a father, and the two spent many years struggling to come to terms with each other.

As she sat looking out across the open waters watching ships sail by, proudly flying their colorful flags, she breathed deeply, trying her hardest to drown out the distant shouting. Tiny waves crept across the white sand and nipped at her toes as she sat basking in the warmth of the sun, wishing she could be out there, free as the people she watched come and go every day. There was something thrilling about the idea of guiding a ship through storm and fog, and discovering worlds that she had never seen, that she couldn't explain. But the want to do such things had become so strong over the years, that she now called it a need. She needed to escape the home that she likened to a prison. She needed to smell the salt water from the deck of a ship, and feel the spray of ocean mist against her skin. She needed the chill of a night wind in her bones, and to swim in the blue-black waters of the Caribbean. She'd wanted these things since she could remember, but never understood why she felt such a strong calling. Sure, when her mother hadn't been looking, she'd spent time with the crews that had called Nassau their home until the British neutralized any and all pirate activity. She had come to know more about their legends than their truths, but it was all the while just as enticing. But when her mother had become wise to her whereabouts when stolen ships lined the coast, she began to lock Raven away, insisting it was for her own good, and that any man or woman who associated with the likes of pirates, was just as much a heathen as they were.

Raven's fingers raked across the fine sand until they glided across a small object. She dug away at the half buried shark eye shell next to her, and dusted it off in her palm, looking at small cracks that blemished the otherwise smooth surface. Smears of wet dirt sullied the shell's naturally pale color, and after several failed attempts to clean it, she tossed it into the water, watching as small bubbles rose where the shell sank. A small sigh slipped through her lips, and she allowed herself a good stretch before finally rising up to her feet.

"There you are!"

"Where else would I be?" Raven asked in response. She looked herself over, and dusted off as much sand from her dress as she could, before turning to see Jacob approach. She smiled when she saw him, much as she always did, and looked him over as she ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to untangle a cluster of knots that had formed since morning. He laughed once or twice when he saw her wince in pain from pulling her hair, and mocked fear when she shot him a glance that screamed threats of bodily harm. "I take it, dear Jacob, that you've come to escort me home?"

"Your mother is in another one of her fits," he answered regretfully. He looked at her with apology in his brown eyes, and held a hand in her direction. "You missed the hanging."

"You were there!?"

"If I am to remain living under the safety and security of the Attaway Manor, then I must be present at any and all political and social events, and prove myself to be an upstanding, law abiding member of this fine community."

"You sound like my father," she responded, taking his hand.

"Likely because it was he who said it." He weaved his fingers through hers and began to lead her away from the comfort of her sacred place.

Guards passed them by on the main street through the city, several recognizing and greeting them, and others looking at Raven as though she was a homeless woman being taken in by a stranger. Jacob was well dressed, as was required of him by Daniel and Isabella. His hair was short, and though they insisted he kept a clean shaven face, a small patch of hair made itself at home on his chin. His skin was darkly tanned making Raven's look almost frosty white in comparison, and having worked on a nearby plantation for well over a year – yet another of Daniel's ideas to instil independence and discipline – his body was well trimmed and muscular, and often the cause of Raven's frequent distraction.

As the two drew nearer to the Attaway Manor, Raven squeezed Jacob's hand and looked up at him nervously. She wasn't eager to enter the large home, and could already hear Isabella's shouting in her mind. Jacob, who had been living with the Attaway's since his teen years, placed his hand on Raven's cheek and kissed her on the forehead before accompanying her inside. He led her across the foyer to the study at the back of the house, where they were greeted by one of Daniel's many hired servants. Raven's eyes dropped to the floor as the young African woman opened the door to reveal a furious Isabella, and would have turned and ran had Jacob not been there to stop her.

"Thank you for retrieving her, Jacob." The elegantly dressed young mother stood behind a heavy maple desk, smiling sweetly at the young man and waving him away before seating herself and folding her hands over a stack of paper that lay scattered across the surface. She was a very well kept woman, and took great pride in her appearance. Her hair lay curled over her left shoulder, not a strand out of place. A single lock of grey peaked out from the chestnut brown, betraying her age. She was a woman that many looked up to, not only for the way she looked, but the way she carried herself. Her head was always held high, and her posture near perfect. She was a prideful woman, and expected nothing but the best from everyone. Especially her daughter. She looked up at Raven, her disappointment evident in her delicate features. Her eyes were a darker shade of green than usual, and the faint wrinkles that gave beautiful distinction to her face seemed deeper than Raven remembered. "Estimada filla."

"Hola, mare," Raven replied quietly. She glanced around the room, and soon after spotted Daniel standing near a window, looking out over a small garden. She found some comfort in his presence there, knowing that as long as he was in the same room, her mother's wrath wouldn't be nearly as fierce as if he weren't there. She smiled weakly as he turned around. "Father."

Daniel offered her a comforting smile in greeting, and she felt herself relax. She'd always appreciated that his love and discipline never intertwined. No matter how angry she'd made him over the years with her antics, he'd always been a loving father, and always showed her affection despite any disappointment. The same could not be said for Isabella, however. The woman had a horrible habit of going days without speaking to the girl when she'd done something wrong, and so, over time, Raven found herself turning to her step-father in times of trouble. He motioned for her to take a seat before the large desk, and she did so immediately, folding her hands neatly in her lap, her eyes lowered and her shoulders slouched.

"You were not present at the execution today." Isabella's heavy Spanish accent rang in Raven's ears, and she kept her eyes fixated on a sheet of paper in her hands. "I would like to know why."

"Why?" Raven repeated with a laugh. She looked back and forth between Daniel and Isabella, trying to think of an appropriate response, but could think of nothing. Her gaze hardened as she looked at her mother. "I would like to know, Mother, why you find it so entertaining to take another's life and call it a lawful punishment."

"They are criminals, Raven. They deserve nothing short of a noose around their necks."

"Your definition of a criminal, Mother, is vague at best," Raven argued. She looked to Daniel who by now had taken his place next to Isabella. "Father. Can you honestly stand there and defend this idea? That a man who wants nothing more than to live his life with freedom, is truly a criminal? Can you tell me beyond any shadow of a doubt that all pirates deserve such a title, and that their freedom come with such a high price?"

"If murder and thievery is what you consider to be freedom, then yes. They all deserve that title. They scour the open water in search of other ships to prey upon, and come on our shores boasting of their achievements. The law clearly states, as I've no doubt you've learned from your studies, that piracy is a capital crime, and therefore punishable by death."

"I understand, Father." Raven accepted his answer, though it didn't change her mind any. She nodded and thought for a moment. "But why must I be forced to watch these hangings take place? What is the lesson there?"

"That you not become like these people, Raven," Daniel answered. "We know all too well that your mind takes flight when you hear stories of these animals at sea, and that you are so firm against their arrests only shows me that you would likely lie to keep them from their fates. And while I must commend your loyalty to the people you care about, it is a choice that would bring their fate upon you. You are not of my blood, Songbird, but you are my child, and I'll not see you die for another's indiscretions."

Raven sat in silence for a moment, her bottom lip quivering as she held back tears. She could feel the pain in her chest, and the lump in her throat as she swallowed down sobs, trying to be strong in front of her father. Her crying was a jumbled mess of disappointment and contempt, and after gathering herself long enough to speak, she rose to her feet.

"I understand what you are telling me," she began. She looked at both of her parents, and smiled, waiting for them to return the gesture. When they did, she headed towards the door as though taking her leave, and turned back to them as she held it open to the foyer. "However, I will spend time with the people I deem worthy of my time, whether it be thieves, whores, slaves or pirates. You can have your fun watching these people be treated like the scum of this God forsaken Earth if you so please, but I will not. Vaig a tenir part en ella!"

She stormed through the foyer, ignoring the sound of her parents shouting for her to come back and the harsh echo of the study door slamming behind her. Her bare heels pounded the floor as she made her way to the front door, all the while mumbling curse words in her mother's native tongue. She didn't put her shoes on until she was down the steps outside and halfway down the road on her way to the local plantation. She ran through the streets doing her best to avoid running into anyone, but as she turned a corner she was met by the jarring impact of another person. The two both fell to the ground from the collision, but the man that had run into her scrambled to his feet, leaving several sealed envelopes scattered about the ground. When she realized that the man was a courier, she hurried to gather up the letters and call out to him, only to find that he was long gone, leaving shouts of pirates carrying through the air. Raven stood baffled for a moment, and looked down at the letters in her hands. Being the honest woman that she had been raised to be, she decided to deliver the letters for the courier, and flipped through them until she spotted one with her name on it. She tucked it in the waist of her skirt, and proceeded to deliver the lost envelopes.

It took her nearly an hour to hand off each letter, and she cursed at herself for not paying nearly enough attention to the many people she had been introduced to at many a social gathering over the years. As she walked, her arm brushed against the letter she had tucked away, and she stopped in the middle of the road to look at it. Her name was scribed with the utmost care, though the address was scribbled down quickly. She flipped it over in her hand to see a small seal of black candle wax, and ran her fingers over it before snapping it loose and opening the aged envelope. Inside, a reddish brown sheet of paper sat neatly folded. An overpowering scent of tobacco and whiskey emanated from the letter, and she found a certain comfort in the smell. Pulling the letter out, she unfolded it, eager to find out just who this note had come from.

When she finally made her way to the plantation, she found Jacob at work in the cane fields. He was hunched over the crops, pulling weeds and removing sickly plants. His shirt was off and slung over his shoulder, and he stood up, using it to wipe sweat from his forehead. It was then that he saw her walking toward him. In her hands he could see a sheet of paper, crumpled under her tight grip, and as she moved closer, he could see the tears streaming down her cheeks. He laid his shirt around his neck and dropped what he was doing, stumbling through the field to go to her aid.

"Dove," he said, wiping his thumb across the unending flow of tears. As he brushed strands of hair from her face, he could see the redness in her eyes. In all of the years he'd known her, he'd never seen her such a disaster, and it had him beyond concerned. "What's happened?"

Raven didn't speak. Instead, she handed him the letter and allowed him to see for himself as she choked back violent sobs. She watched as he read the letter, seeing his expression change from worry to sympathy, and feeling her heart break more than she'd already thought possible. As he looked up at her, she sniffed, wiping her eyes. "I need a drink."


	2. Chapter 2

The Old Avery Tavern stood high off the main road, it's foundation built into the ground leading to a cemetery. Many poked fun at the location, often joking that the drink was enough to kill a man, and so the cemetery wasn't a part of the church property, but the tavern. Avery's was Raven's home away from home, and one of the few places in the world where she could truly feel free. Most nights that she came by, she sat alone sipping brandy and musing as she watched the bustle of Nassau slow and quiet. Some nights she gambled with strangers, and others she sang and danced with pirates. Tonight, she leaned over the banister, staring through people as they passed by, her eyes still wet from tears that had long since dried. A gentle nudge against her arm pulled her out of her daze, and she looked up to see Jacob with a bottle and two small cups in his hands.

"It's your favorite," he said, offering a quirky grin. He wasn't surprised when she turned and sat in the nearest old chair she could find, and buried her face in her hands.

"Jacob, I'm the illegitimate child of a pirate. And his signature is like yours, so it's impossible to read. What if he was a great pirate? Now I'll never know," she whined. She ran her hands back through her hair and peered up at him with a pout. "Why d'you men write so horribly? I mean, my entire life as we know it, was a lie, and now I can never truly know who this man was, because you men don't take the time to be neat."

"I resent that!" Jacob laughed. He took a drink and looked at her. She was sad, there was no question, but she looked more confused than anything. "Look, Raven. It's probably not even real. Chances are, it's just some lonely old fool who thought it'd be fun to throw a wrench into a life he really has no part of. Besides, would your mother really hide something like that from you?"

"You don't know my mother very well, do you?" Raven grabbed her drink and downed it quickly, wheezing at the burn that engulfed her throat. It took her a moment to catch her breath, and by the time she did, her eyes had watered so much that a tear had fallen down her cheek. "You don't remember when we were little, how she'd hurry us away from the beach when the ships rolled in? How they all shouted their hellos to her? No, I believe my mother would have done something like that, and her poor sick husband... he didn't know a thing."

"That's pretty elaborate, love," Jacob argued. He filled her cup again, and watched her shoot it down like water. "Although... you can certainly drink like a pirate."

"Problem with that?" Raven asked. She leaned forward on her elbow, pointing her cup at Jacob's face, and raising a challenging brow at him.

"Oh no you don't." Jacob shook his head and leaned toward Raven. "I took you out to enjoy a few quiet drinks and get your mind off of... whatever this is. Not to have a party."

"Oh, come on! Please!?" She watched as Jacob leaned back, putting his arms up in protest to her challenge. With a wink, she grabbed the bottle from the table, stood up, and shouted at the other patrons. "Good sirs! Fellow – and I say this with as much love as I can muster, for you and I are one and the same – drunkards! Help me show this _gentleman_ how to drink like a sailor!"

Looking back to Jacob who sat shaking his head in his hand, she put the bottle up to her lips, and chugged away at the liquor, spilling more than she swallowed as she grinned from ear to ear. She took a bow to the men cheering her on and chanting, slammed the bottle down and took a seat. She looked around, quite proud of herself, and when the effects of the alcohol hit her suddenly, she rested her head on the table, regretting her actions.

"Ah, you see?" Jacob said, leaning over and patting her shoulder. "Should have listened."

"Ugh," she groaned. She looked up at Jacob, hiding the lower half of her face with her forearm. "I could still... drink you under the table _and_ carry you 'ome, and you know it."

"Alright." Jacob stood, and winked back at Raven, before shouting over his shoulder. "Fifty Reales says I, Jacob Carver, can drink _you_ under the table, and still walk home in a straight line!"

"Bullshit!" She yelled in response. She sat herself back, licking her lips and tapping her fingers on the empty bottle of brandy. "But, I'll take your money."

A toothy smile spread quickly over Jacob's face, and he called for another bottle as the crowd of men and their dates moved around the table. Some threw down a few Reales of their own to sweeten the pot, and others made bets among themselves. The two began taking shots, each one at a time, and the rowdy crew surrounding them chanted and sang as time went on. Raven had no doubt in her mind that she was going to win this bet. Jacob was pounding back each shot faster and faster, and she could see him begin to sway in his seat after only having a few. Sadly, if he lost, it meant she was going to have to carry _him_ home, and walking herself in a straight line down the road would be difficult enough without his added weight. On the other hand, she couldn't bare to let him win, and have to deal with his ego for a week or more afterward, and so she let him carry on.

She had barely swallowed the last remaining shot in the bottle by the time he'd finally passed out. The people around her cheered and clapped in her honor before dawdling away and leaving their losses at the table. Raven quickly gathered up the coin that lay scattered about, and stood, barely able to do so without losing her balance, to gather up her fiancé.

"Hey," she said softly, nudging him with her foot. "Looks like I won, aye?"

Jacob took a few minutes to finally come to, and when he did, he squinted at her, trying to make her out through his blurred vision. He accepted what little help she could give, and after a few more minutes of struggling, was back on his feet and holding the table to steady himself.

"Maybe," he said, wrapping an arm around his stomach, trying to keep it from flopping about. "Maybe you... cheated."

Raven gave him a weak shove, managing to knock him back to the floor, and collapsing herself as she laughed at him. A couple of men offered to help them home, but she waved them off, insisting they could make it on their own. After sitting on the old wood floor that groaned under their weight, they made their way through the graveyard in the back, and on toward home.

By the time they had reached the front porch, both were exhausted, and took a seat against the wall of the manor. Jacob noticed some chipped paint, and began picking away at it. Raven gave him a nudge and moved herself closer until she was sitting against him. He put his arm around her, and kissed the top of her head.

"So..." He said quietly. "What are you going to do about the letter?"

"I don't know." Raven held his hand in hers and looked out to the street, watching the few night owls that remained head home. The moon was bright and full, and the world around her was illuminated in such a way that it almost felt like midday. She pulled the letter from her skirt, where it had been resting most of the evening, and read a line to Jacob. "Listen to this. 'Not a day's gone by, these past twenty years, that I haven't thought about you and your mother.' Whoever this man was, he knew my mother, and he knew me as a child. But why can't I remember that? And why wouldn't my mother tell me about this?"

"Raven, you have a father. You _had_ a proper father. I'm telling you, it's a lie."

"No," Raven argued. She shook her head and pushed herself away from Jacob, rubbing her forehead. "A man wouldn't just do that. No one would just muck up someone's happiness like that."

"What do you mean, exactly? Are you suddenly unhappy?"

"That's not what I mean, Jacob. But why, when things are going so smoothly, would someone pull a stunt like this? I need to find out who this is, and why I'm only just finding out."

"Okay, that's enough," Jacob said, disgruntled. "Let me see it."

Raven handed him the letter, and Jacob looked it over. He sat staring at the signature near the bottom of the paper, and laughed.

"What's so funny?" Raven looked at him as though he was crazy, and he returned the expression.

"Thatch," he said simply. When she looked at him even more confused, he shook his head. "This says Thatch. You mean to tell me that you believe this barbarian is your father?"

"What d'you mean, barbarian?"

"Blackbeard, woman. The most notorious pirate in all the West Indies. The only one to never kill a man and gain his reputation by lighting paper on fire under 'is hat. If it _is _true, why wouldn't your mother keep it a secret?"

Jacob rose to his feet and crumpled up the letter, having had enough of Raven's persistence on the issue. She pulled herself to her feet in a huff, and reached to grab the paper from his hand, but he wouldn't give it to her.

"The woman was married when I was born, idiot! Why do _you _think she kept it a secret?"

"I think you're blowing this whole thing out of proportion, love." He jumped back as Raven lunged for the letter. "You're not getting it back unless you promise me that you'll let this go."

"Fine. I'll let it go," she said. She held a hand out for him to shake, as a part of their deal, and crossed her fingers behind her back. She smiled when Jacob handed the letter back to her, and went in the house, winking as she slipped through the door.

Jacob could hear her run across the foyer, and rolled his eyes. He took chase, but found it pointless, as by the time he'd made it into the house, she was nowhere to be found. The sound of rummaging and drawers being opened and shook, drew him to the study. He made his way as quietly as he could to the doorway, and saw Raven snooping through the study. She was bent over a large chest, flipping through old envelopes. Jacob's heart sunk when she stood up straight, holding a stack of letters, each with her name on them. The same black seal was present, but cracked; a sign that Isabella had read them herself.

"You promised," Jacob said from the door, folding his arms over his chest.

She didn't respond. Instead, she looked through each letter, finding the same signature on all of them. She had counted twelve, but was certain there were more in the chest, as each was dated from a different year. The first one, dated August 14th, 1698, seemed to be the first of the series, and she stumbled back as she read it.

_It's been a long summer without you. But the work has made it a tad more bearable. I'll be home in Nassau in three weeks time. I only pray this reaches you before then. Daddy's got a present for you when I get there. Be a good lass, and I'll see you again soon._

_Daddy Thatch_

Raven folded the note, tucked it back in its respective envelope, and charged out of the study with her hands full. Jacob reached for her to stop her, but she'd bumped into him on her way out the door, and put him in a daze. She ran up to her room, avoiding the creaks in the floor that she'd memorized over many years of sneaking out of the house, and grabbed a satchel, packing it with clothes. Jacob took off after her, and barged into the room.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" She paid him no attention as she stuffed the bag full of clothes. It wasn't until he grabbed her at the door that she finally stopped.

"You're leaving."

"I'm tired of being lied to, Jacob," she said while shaking herself free. She pushed past him and stopped in the hallway. "My entire life here... my life with _you_ has been built on a lie. And I intend to find the truth. But not here."

"What?" Jacob shook his head, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. He could feel a pain in his chest, and he likened it to that of heartbreak. "What about u-us, Raven?"

"Come with me."

"I can't!" He whispered harshly. "I can't support this mad quest you're on!"

"Then you needn't worry about us."

She stepped toward him and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, before turning around and sprinting down the stairs. The last Jacob would hear from her for a long time, was the goodbye she called back as she ran down the street toward the harbor.


End file.
